


When The Dust Settles

by perdiccas



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: First Time, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Porn, Safer Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-18
Updated: 2009-03-18
Packaged: 2017-10-02 10:49:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perdiccas/pseuds/perdiccas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the dust from the inevitable battle settles, the survivors stagger from the holding facility, prisoners and rescuers alike. Smoke billows around them from the flames and the explosions. The air is thick with ash and their clothes are torn, bloodied and burnt. Everyone mills around in groups of one or two, gravitating towards familiar faces, others in their splinter cells and people they'd known before. Old enemies have fought side-by-side and no one knows how long, in this new world order, their fragile truces will persist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When The Dust Settles

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Reunited. Relatively inexperienced Sylar/knowledgeable Luke.
> 
> Luke is 17.

When the dust from the inevitable battle settles, the survivors stagger from the holding facility, prisoners and rescuers alike. Smoke billows around them from the flames and the explosions. The air is thick with ash and their clothes are torn, bloodied and burnt. Everyone mills around in groups of one or two, gravitating towards familiar faces, others in their splinter cells and people they'd known before. Old enemies have fought side-by-side and no one knows how long, in this new world order, their fragile truces will persist.

Sylar thinks it clear that no one has thought they'd win. There doesn't seem to be a plan, now that they've brought the government to its knees.

The Petrellis are up front, and the Bennets, too, drawing people towards them with booming, authoritative voices, exuding a confidence that Sylar knows even Angela can't really feel. They talk of 'damage control' and 'minimising upheaval' and Sylar knows that though they've won, nothing has really changed. Maybe their jailers now are one of us, not one of them, but the chains they'll forge will be just as binding.

Sylar's not one to let himself be caged.

His eyes scan the horizon. He has no plans either, nowhere else to go and it seems far too prosaic to lay into people for their abilities while they're corralled around him like headless chickens. His father was right about one thing: the hunt is where there's amusement to be had.

So, when he sees a figure stealing away, edging away from the Petrelli-mania up ahead, not inching towards it like the rest of the unwashed masses, Sylar looks a little harder. A smile creeps across his face as he recognises that slouching gait.

"Hey!" he calls out, trotting up behind the kid.

"Hey! Hello?" again, when he gets no response.

"Luke?" he grabs Luke's elbow and spins him around. "Hey! I'm talking to you!"

"So?" Luke shrugs him off and scowls, still spitting mad, Sylar sees, for being left behind. Sylar thinks that Luke might be the only one who can hold a grudge when they've been brothers-in-arms. Even Claire Bennet had given Sylar a brief, begrudging nod when they passed each other in the carnage.

Sylar can see the car keys in Luke's hand and while he doesn't think that Luke has any more purpose than Sylar, maybe Canada and ripping off old ladies might not be a bad way to spend some time until he works out a new objective. It really doesn't matter where they go as long as they get out of here before someone tries to twist his arm into becoming an upstanding member of the new establishment.

"Take me with you?" Sylar tries.

Luke snorts, completely taken off guard. "Are you serious?"

Sylar cocks his head and arches a challenging brow. He watches conflicting emotions play across Luke's face until, with an exasperated sigh, Luke breaks into a grin.

"Fine," he says, trying for nonchalant, achieving only eager glee. "But this time I'm driving."

***

They drive until dusk, away from the scene. Luke speeds and shows off, weaving through what little traffic there is and playing chicken with oncoming semis like he's the one who can regenerate. Sylar's telekinesis saves them twice before Sylar snaps.

"The next time you feel like driving against traffic," he growls, "I'm not going to stop you. I'll be be the one who walks away from the wreckage."

After that Luke settles down, still speeding but at least sticking to the correct side of the road. He turns the radio to full volume just to piss Sylar off.

When the sun starts to set, Luke stops at the sleaziest motel he can find.

"They'll never look for us here," Luke says, but it's a half-assed justification; Luke just wants to stay in a place that has a Magic Fingers bed.

***

"Awesome!" Luke cries.

"Oh god," Sylar groans.

Luke's rented them the honeymoon suite, _of course he has_. There's a dilapidated heart shaped bed that promises to vibrate all night long and a speckled mirror on the ceiling above. Everything is eye-searing shades of pink and clashing reds. The TV plays nothing but porn and there are garish, matching his 'n' hers slippers waiting in the closet.

Sylar thinks he might be sick.

The room's already shuddering with the creak and hum of the ancient bed as Luke sprawls out, spread-eagled and thankfully still dressed, putting the Magic Fingers through its paces: high, medium, low, constant vibrate and different pulsing rhythms. Luke's licking his slick fingertips, tasting all the flavoured lubes that he found in a gift basket on the nightstand while his body shakes. The room starts to smell like artificial strawberries, and Luke's lips shine an obscenely rosey pink.

As Sylar watches him, still at a loss at what to do, Luke's incredulous laughter turns to a small gasped, "Oh!" and then, a longer groan of "Ohhhhh!"

"Jesus, Luke," Sylar mutters. The kid's popped a boner on that goddamned vibrating bed.

Sylar shuts off the bed with his mind; the incessant rattle is giving him a headache. Now that Luke's not buzzing in place, Sylar has no excuse not to see the hand he has firmly pressed against his crotch.

"Ohhh yeah," Luke moans, hips pushing up to grind against his palm.

"Stop it!" Sylar snaps, sitting carefully on the edge of the mattress, facing away from Luke but foiled by mirrors every which way he turns.

Luke laughs, deep and throaty and shuffles himself off the bed. He sidles up in front of Sylar, hips thrust out until the bulge in his jeans invades Sylar's personal space.

"Get that thing out of my face," he says, but he doesn't push Luke away and when Luke steps nearer, his crotch to Sylar's nose, both hands on Sylar's shoulders to hold him still, Sylar's heart begins to pound.

"What's the matter?" Luke whispers in his ear. "Shy?"

Then, Luke is straddling his lap, plump ass grinding down on Sylar's groin, hard cock rutting against his stomach. Both of Luke's hands tangle in his hair and Sylar topples backwards under the ferocity of Luke's kisses. He lies on the bed with his long legs sticking awkwardly over the bottom point of the heart and Luke squirming and writhing on top of him. There's one hand up his shirt, pinching his nipples and tugging at his chest hair and another down his pants, squeezing his cock with spit- and strawberry lube-slick fingers.

"Luke!" he pants, but the kid won't stop moving, circling his hips and grabbing Sylar's ass, biting a line up his neck and sucking below his ear.

"Oh fuck," Sylar whimpers, clutching at Luke's soft waist, settling for simply holding on and giving in.

Just when Sylar thinks that they're going to rub off on each other until they come in their shorts like two horny teenagers instead of just one, Luke pulls back, kneeling over him, and starts to yank his clothes off. Luke's bizarrely confident considering the puppy fat that sticks to his hips and thighs, rounding out his waist and making his flat belly soft. His shoulders and chest are narrow, his skin pale and his body as smooth and hairless as his baby soft face. But between Luke's legs, his cock juts out, hard, and there's hair there after all, soft and light, feathering up from his balls in a trail towards his navel.

Sylar's mouth is dry and he realises that he's staring, awkwardly paused midway through stripping off his shirt. He tries to speak but a hoarse croak is all that makes it out.

"Yeah, you like that, don't you?" Luke growls, hips slinking from side to side like he's a fucking porn star, not some weedy kid with a god complex. But maybe it doesn't matter if he doesn't have the body for it, because the body Luke does have has got Sylar so turned on he can barely breathe.

Luke helps him out of his clothes because Sylar is suddenly incapable of doing anything but gawping and groaning, and Luke, somehow, knows how to pull an undershirt over Sylar's head while barely breaking their kisses and, _oh god oh god oh god_, work a zipper down with his teeth.

Luke's mouth closes around the head of his cock and Sylar keens. There wasn't any time for foreplay in the Canfield House and Luke's hot, tight little mouth, pretty plump lips stretched around his girth, is the only one that's ever been on Sylar's cock.

"Jesus," Sylar pants as Luke slides down and down and down, and _holy shit_ his nose is flush against Sylar's groin, huffing a breath that ruffles the coarse curls there. His lips are clamping tighter in a ring around Sylar's base and he's sucking, _sucking_ and hollowing his cheeks as he pulls up, one hand kneading Sylar's balls between his fingers. His tongue swishes in busy circles, pressing up against the underside, tracing every vein and wrinkle in his skin. Sylar fists the sheets and his body curls as Luke pets his tensing stomach and pops off Sylar's dick. His lips are a swollen cherry red and a glistening thread of spit and pre-come still joins mouth to cock.

Sylar rocks his hips, bouncing his dick against the cleft in Luke's smooth chin, shuddering when Luke chuckles breathily against his saliva damp skin and pins him down. He loops two fingers around Sylar's root and holds him steady, lazily moving his head from side to side to rub his mouth across Sylar's slit. Then, while one hand pumps his shaft, he laps around the crown of Sylar's cock, tongue curving and pointing to trace underneath the ridge. Luke sucks fluttering kisses to that sensitive spot below the head.

Dark, lust-blown eyes stare wantonly up at Sylar, never breaking eye contact, even as Luke leans back to lick his slick and messy lips, smearing pre-come all along them more than he manages to wipe himself clean. Luke ducks down and takes him quickly to the back of his throat, groaning deeply at Sylar's taste. In Luke's hand, Sylar can feel his balls jerk tight.

"Luke, wait… Wait! I'm gonna…" he wails.

Luke's off him in a flash, panting, "Whoa! Whoa! Slow down."

"Already?" he gasps, a little proud and a lot shocked as his hands stroke absently down Sylar's inner thighs, smoothing the dark hair on his legs as he soothes Sylar's quivering body.

Sylar grabs him by the shoulders and tugs him up, stretching Luke out over him and pulling him down to taste himself inside Luke's mouth.

"Sorry," he mutters, with a blush he hopes hides beneath his sex flushed skin. "I don't usually… y'know."

There's half a beat of silence and then a Luke's face splits into a grin. "Too busy getting abilities, huh?" he whispers, pecking kissing over Sylar's cheeks and chin.

"Yeah," Sylar murmurs. "Yeah, something like that."

"Smart," Luke croons in his ear. "Right priorities," he decides, and Sylar doesn't _think_ he's being mocked.

"I'm gonna make you feel so good," Luke promises. Something so cheesy shouldn't go so directly to Sylar's dick.

Luke kisses him deeply, suddenly tender, smiling shyly when he pulls away. He glances down at Sylar's chest, tracing the shape of his chest hair with the tip of his index finger.

"You match the room," Luke teases. He's nibbling at Sylar's nipples before Sylar can clout him for it.

Sylar combs his fingers through Luke's hair, undulating gently up against him as Luke peppers kisses and licks and nips along Sylar's chest. Their cocks bump against each other, slick with sweat, spit and pre-come, sliding in tandem through the fist that Luke folds around them both.

Sylar's panting, whining for more and needing it _now_. His skin feels tight all over, and he's quivering where he's pinned beneath Luke's weight, vibrating enough to give the Magic Fingers a run for their money. His grip digs in to the round swell of Luke's ass, dragging him closer and he leaves purpling bite marks along Luke's porcelain white throat.

"Okay," Luke says, trying to slow him down, pressing at his chest to try and keep Sylar passive against the bed. But Sylar's the stronger, if not the more experienced, and he can growl, too, and demand what he wants, raking blunt nails down Luke's spine.

"Okay, okay," Luke says through a breathless laugh. "Relax, I've got this."

The gift basket has condoms too.

"You need to give me some space to work." Luke gently takes Sylar's hands from his ass and places them above his head.

"Watch," he says as he sits up on his knees, trailing three slick and strawberry scented fingers down his cock and back behind his balls. Sylar props himself up on his elbows to stop himself from reaching down and jacking off as Luke crouches over him and fingers his own asshole open.

Luke must see the way he's biting his lip and white-knuckling the sheets, or maybe he's noticed that Sylar hasn't bothered to breathe since he saw Luke sink one long, slender finger between his cheeks and inside his ass, because he smirks at Sylar. "S'good," he moans. "Oh yeah, right there."

Then, Luke's frowning a little and he has a second finger inside himself, panting quicker and grunting as he stretches himself open wider. He twists his wrist and he's probing, delving and searching. When he finds that spot, he gasps a short, sharp, "Oh!" and Sylar thinks he might come then and there when he sees the way Luke's cock twitches and starts to drip.

"Fuck, Luke. Where did you learn to do this?" Sylar grits out, not because he wants to know but because he hopes that if he talks he might buy himself some time before his orgasm hits embarrassingly quickly.

"Oh, y'know, around," Luke hedges.

And if Sylar didn't care before, now he's curious. He reaches out and softly strokes Luke's dick, caressing him as he fucks himself with his fingers. "Tell me," he says. "I won't be mad."

Luke rolls his eyes and makes a face. Sylar's fist stops moving, squeezing tighter and tighter and tighter until Luke yelps in pain. "Christ! Okay! Just a guy, all right? Some senior behind the bleachers."

"How tawdry," Sylar muses. "Young love can be so sordid."

Luke scoffs and shakes his head, his eyes a little colder than Sylar would like. "It wasn't like that, ok?"

Sylar narrows his eyes and eases up his grip. He studies Luke's face and tries to quell the rising rage as he assumes the worst.

"No!" Luke snaps when he sees Sylar's scowl. "No, it wasn't like _that_ either. Come on, I wanted it. It was good."

Sylar waits and when the silence is awkward, Luke sighs an exasperated sigh, filling in the gaps.

"Okay, fine, look. He was this dickhead football player and I was the kid always trying to set the locker rooms on fire and we used to hook up after home games. Are you happy now?"

Sylar nods, smirking.

"He said I was pretty," Luke mutters, pouting petulantly.

Sylar barks out a laugh before he can stop himself. Luke flushes a deep, dark red and if Sylar hadn't hurtled forward, yanking Luke to meet him in a tooth-clacking kiss, Sylar's sure Luke would have snapped something about how at least _he_ got laid once in a while and then they'd have been fighting not fucking. And Sylar's cock is throbbing, has been throbbing through this all and he really wants to fuck.

In Luke's ear, Sylar rumbles, "He meant you look like you're fourteen."

"Very funny," Luke snits but Sylar knows he isn't too mad, he can see the corners of his eyes crinkling as he tries not to grin. "Like that doesn't do it for you too."

Sylar gives a grunt that's neither yes nor no, settling for kissing Luke's lips into the smile he's trying to deny. He doesn't want to admit that the fighting has weathered Luke and that his baby soft chin no longer hides his jaded eyes or the cruelty that lies in the set of his jaw.

"What happened?" Sylar asks, voice stuttering as Luke rolls a snug condom down him and slathers lube along his length.

"Oh, y'know." Luke shrugs. "He knocked up the prom queen."

"Naughty, naughty."

"Yeah," Luke smirks. "Serves him right for bumming condoms off me. All it takes is a pin prick."

"Luke!" Sylar laughs, not sure whether to feel appalled or impressed at Luke's vindictiveness. But, he doesn't have long to contemplate the matter because Luke is sinking down, guiding his cock inside him and Sylar's world narrows to the stretch of muscle around his dick, so tight he thinks that he can't bear it. Luke slides down slowly, panting and gripping Sylar's shoulders hard enough to send bruises fanning out along Sylar's clavicle.

"Don't move," Luke grinds out. "Not yet," he pleads.

Sylar's too far gone to do anything but scrunch up his eyes against their reflection in the mirror above, and pray he doesn't come too soon.

While Sylar is still trying to figure out how he hasn't burnt up from the inside out with the heat that's being stoked so ferociously in his groin, Luke starts to swivel his hips. At first it's gentle, swaying back and forth, getting used to Sylar's width and length, whimpering, "You feel so big."

Then, he's rising up and falling back down, slow to start, then quicker; shallow and then balls deep. Sylar clutches at Luke's thighs and he can't not thrust, not now; he hasn't a hope in hell of holding back. But Luke's moaning, _yeah yeah yeah_ as he bounces in Sylar's lap and they find an off kilter rhythm that works for them, Sylar lilting up as Luke plunges down.

"Close?" Luke asks, smoothing a shaking thumb over Sylar's eyebrows, swiping away the sweat that's prickling on his brow.

Sylar nods. "Really close," he groans.

"Hang on, for me," Luke begs, not too shy to touch himself, fisting his cock with lightening quick strokes. "I'm nearly there. Don't let go, not yet..."

Then, Luke's spurting over his fingers, striping Sylar's chest with come, his ass fluttering around him.

"Sylar!" he shouts and Sylar takes his cue, clamping his hands to Luke's hips and yanking him down roughly as his back arches up and he comes harder then he ever has before, deep inside of Luke.

***

Sylar comes to with blissed out groan, Luke's face hovering over him and his softening cock sliding free from Luke's body.

"Did you black out a little?" Luke asks, grinning obscenely and waggling his eyebrows.

Sylar nods, light headed and euphoric. His hands tremble as he cups Luke's cheeks and kisses him.

"Oh yeah," Luke mutters in triumph against Sylar's mouth. "I've still got it."


End file.
